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by machtaholic (cinderella81)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Buzz Cut Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Haircuts, M/M, season 3b spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 14:03:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1187979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinderella81/pseuds/machtaholic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the battle with the nogitsune, Stiles wants to forget ... so he asks Derek to cut his hair for him</p>
<p>I love Stiles with his buzzcut and the idea of Derek cutting his hair for him, and so this fic was born</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

  * For [miszxbrii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miszxbrii/gifts).



The loft was almost perfectly silent as Stiles stepped carefully out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He could hear Derek in the bedroom, could hear Derek’s fingers turning the pages of whatever philosophy or history or trashy romance novel he was currently reading. It was soothing, comforting.

Stiles wiped the steam from the mirror and squinted a bit at his reflection. He was still a bit weak, still looked very tired – the dark shadows under his eyes had finally begun fading. The nogitsune had been defeated, had been banished and Stiles was finally free. Stiles had finally begun feeling good, feeling … normal. A trip to the doctor had revealed that not only had the atrophy from the frontotemporal dementia stopped, it had completely reversed. The doctor called it a medical miracle, but Stiles and everyone who knew him and knew about the supernatural occurrences in Beacon Hills knew it was something else.

Derek’s reflection in the mirror behind him made Stiles jump. “Shit, I’m gonna put a bell on you, I swear,” he muttered.

“You’ve been in here a while, you okay?” Derek asked softly, resting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. He’d been coddling Stiles for the past couple days – and with good reason. The battle with the nogitsune, while internal, had raged within Stiles for days, leaving him physically drained and in a magical coma. Derek hadn’t left his side during the three days Stiles was unconscious. When he had finally regained consciousness, Stiles had been put on bed rest for at least a week on Deaton’s orders.

“Just a little tired,” Stiles replied, leaning back against Derek. He’d dropped a ton of weight, his body using almost all its resources to battle the nogitsune. He’d been slowly getting strength back, but he was still thin, still weak.

“Understandable,” Derek murmured as he pressed a kiss behind Stiles’ ear.

Stiles hummed softly, enjoying the feel of Derek’s lips on his skin. He felt Derek nuzzle his nape and he shivered a bit. He glanced at his hair; longish and messy, random spikes standing up haphazardly. He frowned a bit at his reflection. “Derek?” he asked softly.

“Hmm?” Derek pressed a lazy kiss to the shell of Stiles’ ear and met Stiles’ gaze in the mirror.

“I want to cut my hair,” Stiles said. “It’s … it’s a reminder of everything that was shitty this year and I don’t want …”

“I get it,” Derek said. “Why don’t you throw some clothes on and we can go –“

“No, I want you to do it,” Stiles interrupted. “I don’t want to go and have some stranger do it for me.”

“Okay,” Derek murmured, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder. “Give me a second.” He disappeared for a few moments, leaving Stiles alone with his thoughts. Stiles could hear Derek rummaging around in the linen closet in the hallway and when Derek appeared he had a pair of scissors and a set of clippers.

“I figured we can cut it with scissors first,” Derek said softly.

“That’s fine with me,” Stiles replied, watching Derek step up behind him. He sighed when he felt Derek’s fingers in his hair, felt gentle tugs, heard the loud sound of scissors snipping at his hair. He gave a little smile when he heard Derek start to hum softly, an old Fleetwood Mac song. He watched his hair get shorter, watched the short locks of hair drift to the ground as Derek worked.

Derek set the scissors down and brushed stray hairs off Stiles’ shoulders before reaching for the clippers. “How short?” he asked softly, hands stilling over the various guides.

“Short,” Stiles said. “Eighth of an inch?”

Derek nodded and snapped a guide onto the clippers, plugged them in and turned them on. He pulled Stiles closer and set the clippers in the center of Stiles’ forehead, easing the clippers back gently over Stiles’ head. Pass after pass reduced Stiles’ hair to a soft pelt of dark hair, barely an eighth of an inch long. Derek nudged Stiles’ head down and ran the clippers over the back and sides of Stiles’ head, blowing gently at the stray hairs.

Stiles shivered under Derek’s gentle attention. When the clippers stopped and he lifted his head again, he gave his reflection a smile – it was him again.

“And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before,” Derek half sung in Stiles’ ear.

“You’re such a romantic,” Stiles murmured.

“Don’t go spreading that around,” Derek replied, setting the clippers on the counter and resting a hand on Stiles’ stomach. “I have a reputation.”

“Mmmhmm,” Stiles hummed, his breath hitching as Derek’s hand traveled up his chest, rough fingers tweaking one of his nipples. “Derek … “

“Yes?” Derek murmured, fingers rolling Stiles’ nipple as he pressed kisses up the back of Stiles’ head.

“You … that feels …” Stiles gave a little gasp as Derek tugged Stiles’ nipple playfully. Derek released Stiles’ nipple and both hands went to Stiles’ head, running his hands back and forth over Stiles’ buzzed head. “Fuck.”

“Think you’re up for that?” Derek teased gently.

“Haven’t since before,” Stiles groaned, wiggling against Derek and feeling the towel loosen and drop to the floor. “And then the battle and the coma and the coddling.”

Derek hummed and continued to massage Stiles’ scalp, humming softly. “Better take care of that, then,” he breathed. He started walking backwards towards the bedroom, tugging Stiles with him.

Stiles went willingly, eagerly, turning to face Derek as they made their way into the bedroom. Derek laid Stiles down on the bed, stripped down, and crawled in after him, covering Stiles’ body with his own. He gently caressed Stiles’ scalp, giving him one of those rare smiles - the ones he saved just for Stiles, before mapping Stiles’ body with his lips and tongue, relearning his lover’s muscles and skin.

Stiles gasped and arched under Derek’s lips, his hands going to Derek’s shoulders, urging him on. “Yes,” he whispered. “Derek …” He felt Derek’s lips and tongue on his hipbone and gave a little whimper. He’d missed this – missed the way Derek would almost worship his body, the gentle touches, the soft kisses. To feel it again felt just like … coming home.

“Your mind’s wandering,” Derek murmured, nipping Stiles’ hipbone. “I can hear the wheels turning from here.”

Stiles looked down and ran a hand through Derek’s hair, tugging it playfully. “Sorry,” he said with a grin.

Derek chuckled and nipped at Stiles’ hip one more time before lubing up a finger and slipping it into Stiles, watching with satisfaction as Stiles gasped and spread his legs wider.

“Give me more,” Stiles panted. “I need it, Derek. Please.”

Derek hummed and added another finger, watching Stiles’ face as he began to scissor his fingers gently. The whimpers and moans his actions elicited from Stiles went straight to his cock. He bit his lip as he removed his fingers and lubed his cock, pressing his cock against Stiles’ entrance.

“Tease,” Stiles said, wiggling against Derek’s cock. “Please, please Derek, want this, want this so bad …”

Derek grinned; he loved how Stiles would babble when he got this close. He pressed forward, groaning softly – Stiles felt so good around him. He rested one hand on the mattress and caressed Stiles’ scalp with the other, humming at the velvety feel of Stiles’ buzzcut under the palm of his hand.

The feel of Derek’s hand on his scalp and Derek’s cock inside him had Stiles on the edge of orgasm. He wrapped a hand around his cock and began to stroke himself roughly, gasping when Derek began to thrust. It didn’t take much more from Derek before Stiles was coming, giving another gasp when he felt Derek come inside him. Derek carefully rested his body on top of Stiles’, lazily rubbing Stiles’ buzzed head.

“Feels good,” Derek commented softly.

Stiles hummed contently, his eyes half closed. “On this end, too,” he mumbled. Even as gentle and slow as Derek had been, it had still taken a lot out of Stiles.

“It’s okay to sleep, Stiles,” Derek whispered, rubbing his palm over the top of Stiles’ head. “I’m not going to go anywhere. I’ll be right here.”

Stiles continued to hum, but it soon gave way to soft, slow breaths. Derek levered himself onto his elbow to watch Stiles sleep, still gently caressing Stiles’ scalp. “You’re safe, Stiles,” he breathed. “You’re safe.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song that Derek is humming/singing is 'Songbird' by Fleetwood Mac, but I actually really love Naya Rivera version, which you can hear here: http://youtu.be/v0bYmsu8XD4


End file.
